


like a leaf in the wind

by Star_less



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Complete, Gen, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Minor Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Canon, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sort Of, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Spoilers, Whump, sort of ig?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: Peter musters up the courage to return to school long after The Snap even though he's still grieving for Tony Stark. He has a panic attack. MJ and Ned are on hand to pull him through it.[Watch Spider-Man: Far From Home, then read.]





	like a leaf in the wind

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers ahead!**
> 
> also this is really like... painful I torture all the cuties... so uh... good luck!

“You know, Peter, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Aunt May said quietly, placing her hand over his and giving it a tight, loving squeeze. He couldn’t quite meet her gaze from where he was ducked down, staring at the multicoloured graffiti and pen-inked doodles plastering the table. He didn’t want to look up at her because every time he did she gave him a look that was so sympathetic, so sad, that it made him want to cry – and if there was one thing he was sick to death of doing, it was crying. He swore he had cried so much that he was entirely empty. Even just the thought of it made him want to throw up somehow. That was also partly what had fuelled his decision to return like he had (because, you know, here he was!) – May had reassured and reinforced week after week that he was to take things at his own pace, that grief was a slow and arduous sort of process, that after Mysterio had pulled his grieving process back twenty steps it was okay if he needed to slow down again-- she didn’t want him to push himself too much in case he got burnout. As much as Peter appreciated her words of comfort and understood why she was saying what she was – she was beginning to sound like a walking self-help manual and it was in all honesty driving Peter just a bit crazy. “I know, May.” He sniffled, squeezing her hand in return and giving her a wobbly sort of smile. “But I’m ready.”

“That’s a very brave decision for you to make, Peter,” said the school councillor who was sat just a little way away from the two. “However, we won’t be returning you to school on a full time basis just yet. Your aunt is right – you’ll be vulnerable to burning out at this stage. I recommend a stilted return to school, maybe two or three hours a day and we will work up to a full time return. You’ll start off with an hour having counselling here with me each morning no matter what, and I can arrange with your teachers to pass along work for you to complete at home. How does that sound?”

Peter wanted so badly to say no. He was so tired of sitting at home all day long and being with the thoughts in his own head that he just wanted to throw himself into school and forget about Tony Stark for a few long hours. No one, no matter what he did, seemed to want to let him forget. Even his work as an Avenger had been slashed in half in the wake of Tony’s death. But what was the point in arguing? It would end the same way as it always had, with him either crashing into upset or screaming. “Okay,” he agreed softly. 

“Great. Well, today we’re going to strip everything back. Your Aunt can stay with you if you wish, but if you’d prefer she left that’s fine too. I’m going to take you right back to your kindergarten years,” said the councillor, passing what looked to be a variety of art supplies to Peter; thick cards in every colour of the rainbow, sequins and glitter that looked like gemstones taken from the most exquisite of jewellery boxes, feathers that looked freshly plucked from exotic birds as well as an array of crayons, markers and plasticine that wouldn’t look out of place in an early-years classroom. “I know from your Aunt that you’re a very active child and prefer being active to talking… so you don’t have to talk about your feelings to me if you don’t want to,” the councillor reassured. “You can craft them out for me instead.” She pushed the supplies a little closer toward him in an encouraging manner.   
Peter’s hands were obediently outstretched. The little voice in the back of his head told him he should be feeling patronised at such a childish activity, but truth be told he had been eyeing up the craft supplies ever since he had walked into the councillor’s office. “Okay,” he reached for the red plasticine. “Aunt May is fine to leave,” he added as a shy afterthought, looking up at her. 

“Of course. Ma’am, feel free to have a coffee…” the councillor ushered May from the room as Peter began attempting to work out how to sculpt a Spider-Man that actually looked like him and not a Spider-Man of the geriatric wrinkly sort.  
~

Peter had a handful of appointments with the school councillor before he started school proper. She had been trying her hardest to chip into all of Peter’s cracks and get him to speak about what was troubling him but in two whole weeks of sessions Peter had remained tight lipped about anything but his desire to return to school, return to his friends, return to being Peter Parker—and finally she had agreed to let him begin classes as they had planned. 

His first class, Spanish. He stepped through the classroom door tightly clutching the straps of his backpack for comfort feeling like a child on their first day at kindergarten. He had walked to class late so the bubble of his classmates had died down and notably, as he stepped through the threshold into class, their conversations died out somewhat with the realisation that it was not their teacher who had stepped inside but Peter. Peter who hadn’t been seen since the blip and was presumed a fatality. Unpopular Peter may have been but a burble of shock ran through the class nonetheless. “Peter!” Ned gasped, the first to break the shocked quiet fuelled by a mixture of pure elation, relief and awe as he dived toward his best friend and enveloped him in a bear hug. “Peter, it’s so good to see you!”

Peter melted into the hug blissfully. It had been what felt like an age since he had a cuddle or even a gentle touch from someone other than Aunt May and as simple as it was Peter really was happy for it—and even moreso to see his best friend. “It’s good to see you too, Ned,” he sighed sweetly, burying his face into Ned’s neck. When the two broke contact Peter shyly brought his gaze up toward MJ who had been watching him quietly with a ghost of a smile dancing at the corners of her mouth, but the second his gaze fixated on her she broke away. Suddenly feeling all pink around the ears Peter settled into his familiar seat (second row, next to Ned, just in front of MJ) and waited for class to begin.   
~

It was exactly fifteen minutes into class when Peter realised that the gentle blur of yellow-and-red on the walls wasn’t the Spanish flag but a wall of Iron Man faces made out of paper plates. Putting his head down, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tried his hardest to pretend as if they hadn’t ever been there, as if he had not one clue as to who ‘Iron Man’ even was. 

It was twenty minutes into class when Peter noticed the, ‘we miss you, Iron Man’ and a matching Spanish phrase printed in the corner of the whiteboard. His throat got tight but he tried and tried to swallow back the rising lump. 

“Peter?”

Peter lifted his head up questioningly, tears brewing like pearls in the corners of his eyes. “Si, Senor?” he rasped out, priding himself on keeping his voice from wobbling because the last thing he wanted to do was to cry in front of all his classmates on his first day back. It had started to ache behind his eyes, an ache that flowered up into his forehead which usually meant tears were imminent, but Peter refused to let them fall. 

If you had tried harder, I would’ve been alive, Peter, said a voice that certainly didn’t belong to his Spanish teacher but to Tony Stark. It sounded as if it was coming from the paper plates on the wall and-- well, no matter how often Peter told himself how silly he was being it really did look as if the mouth pieces on the plates were moving, as if Tony really was speaking to him. He whimpered lightly around the lump in his throat and looked around, desperate to get away from the voice. 

You’re the reason I died, Peter.

This is all your fault. 

You could’ve saved me. You didn’t try. 

Every single Iron Man there on the wall screamed in Peter’s ears. The screaming was so loud it rang in his ears and made his head feel dizzy, pulling him away from his Spanish classroom with Ned and MJ and letting him freefall. In the back of his mind behind the screaming his teacher repeated something, then repeated something, then even tried to repeat it once more but no matter how hard Peter tried to concentrate on the soft confusion in Senor’s voice it was drowned out by Tony’s screaming. Then Ned—Ned’s face in close to his, a whispered, ‘Dude, are you alright?’ that Peter heard but couldn’t respond to because no matter how much he moved his mouth no sounds would come out. Peter felt the telltale throb increase in his forehead and a pulsing heat all over him as his heart began to pound with anxiety. Tony… Tony was wrong. He tried, he tried his hardest to save everybody, to save Tony, of course he had. But this… this was just like when Mysterio had been showing him those horrible illusions. That felt like such a long time ago now, and then—then all they were, were illusions. Not real. What about now? Was it real…? Was any of it real…? Was Tony telling the truth, did he not try…?   
Peter lost all of his breath and had to fight to wrench some air into his lungs – over and over and over, in and out and in and out like a wild thing he tried and tried but couldn’t there was nothing just the tightening of his wide eyes and a tightening in his throat but no air no nothing no matter how hard he tried in out in out in out over and over there was nothing he was going to choke and Tony was going to pull him down down through the floor and into the cold dirt of his casket and oh Tony he had tried so hard please know he had tried really really hard

\--Then all of a sudden he snapped back to the classroom as if nothing was wrong. He looked around, flinching to see Ned and MJ looking with confusion and upset at him—never mind the rest of the class. “I- I can’t,” he gasped, shaking his head wildly and jumping from his chair with a surprising amount of energy in him. “I- I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” He said softly, running out of the classroom with a sob. 

“Leeds. Jones. Follow him at once. Take his backpack and escort him to the councillor.” Said the Spanish teacher. Ned and MJ stared at one another for a long moment (both seeming to silently wonder how they were going to pull Peter out of his panic) before hurrying after Peter with his backpack in hand. Fortunately his panic attack had lost some of its fire and the adrenaline that had propelled Peter into running out had died out. The pair didn’t take long to find him; curled up against one of the lockers, fingers in his hair as if he was trying to pull it out (he wasn’t; he liked the sensation) breaths heaving and hitching and hiccupping in and out of him. He seemed not to notice Ned or MJ despite the pair being the only two in the school’s corridor aside from himself. In a trance, he wept.

“Peter..?” It was MJ who stepped forward this time, her voice velvety soft as she pierced his bubble of personal space. “It’s… it’s us. Me. Ned.” Were they friends? MJ didn’t know if they were really friends – although now wasn’t the time to debate that. “We came to see if you were okay.”

It was quiet. Too quiet. Awkwardly quiet. MJ and Ned shared another look.

“We brought your backpack…!” Ned offered hesitantly.

“I see him everywhere, all the time he’s… there…”

Ned dropped his hand and drew his gaze to what Peter was looking at. Oh yeah, the PowerPoint. After the blip and the news of the deaths of Iron Man, Captain America and the Black Widow became public, the student council were allowed to make a memoriam PowerPoint. “Iron Man,” he nodded softly, not quite knowing what to say. Of course, he didn’t really know. He hadn’t seen what Mysterio had done to Peter, what Mysterio had made Peter see, what Mysterio had done to re-turf Peter’s grief over losing Tony. “We all miss him, Peter, you’re not alone…” he soothed. 

“No!” Peter shouted, forcing tears to burst down his cheeks without him wanting them to fall. He rubbed his itchy, tearstained face. “No, you don’t understand. You don’t. I don’t miss him, I don’t miss him because he’s always there, all the time I see him he’s there, he’s there when I wake up in the mornings and when I close my eyes at night, he’s there when I work, when I don’t, he’s always there and he always tells me what I did wrong, Ned, what I did wrong that made him die, what I should’ve done to save him, what I didn’t do at all…”   
His breathing was picking up again and the all too familiar tight rubber band feeling descended in on his chest and he started doing that thing where he tried to breathe in and out and in and out but couldn’t quite get there so sounded… wheezy… instead. His free hand came to grip his chest and his eyes widened. “’N- now, now he’s gonna—now I’m gonna…” he wheezed and wheezed and whimpered. 

MJ’s eyes crinkled with concern and she slid to the floor, kneeling down in front of Peter. “Hey,” she said, gently taking him by the shoulders and steadying his gaze so he was forced to look at her. “Look at me. Peter. Look at me, you’re okay.” She said. Her voice was firm and, if you asked Ned, not exactly the most comforting tone of voice—but at the same time there was a softness to it that Ned hadn’t heard before.   
Besides – it seemed to be working. Sure Peter took a while, a long time of juddering breaths, but he slowly locked eyes with MJ and for once didn’t close them. She nodded at him in approval. “Now we’re gonna breathe together. It’s easy. We’ve had fifteen years of practise.” She took a deep, exaggeratedly slow breath in front of him so he could see her chest rising and falling—as if, you know, he needed a demonstration. He didn’t quite catch on, so she did it again and this time side-eyed Ned. “Breathe,” she said pointedly toward him. He caught on embarrassingly slowly but slid to the floor and joined in with the exaggerated breaths, patting Peter’s arm encouragingly. Peter’s gaze remained locked on MJ but slowly he took a shuddering breath in. The first one was tear filled, the second one was disrupted by hiccups, the third hitched and by the time they got to the fourth Peter had crumbled… but she said nothing to him, just shook her head and started over in a soft velveteen voice. “One…” Peter was still too far away to think coherently but somehow just the gentle encouragement from MJ slammed into the tiny evil Tony that Mysterio had put inside Peter’s head; slammed into it so it obliterated into a million pieces and took all of the bad thoughts with it.   
The breathing continued, in and out but slowly, like there was a piece of string in his back that pulled him up so he could breathe into every possible gap in his lungs. Slower still the tears stopped and slower than that did the hiccups, but eventually with every breath Peter dragged in he could see Mysterio. Nope, he said, breathing so hard the little Mysterio blew away like a leaf in the wind, you aren’t taking Tony away from me. He was proud and I was brave and it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault and I hate you. 

Eventually, Peter’s breathing was calm and he was able to think without his brain going haywire which allowed for him to realise exactly where he was and sort of…. Jump back into his own body. MJ.   
MJ had her hands clasped on his shoulders and she was leaned in pretty close to him. Whoa. He had never seen her this close before. He had but not like this. Not properly so he could study her. She was… pretty. Her lips looked soft and full and pink and her eyes were like… like little planets, which was probably massively cliché but it was true because she seemed like… wise and other-worldly somehow. In a good way.

Then there was a pressure on his arm. Ned. Ned must’ve seen the gooey eyed look in Peter’s eyes instead of the panicked look. He looked toward his best friend and saw concern staring right back at him but could only smile.  
He quickly stopped swooning. “…Thanks, you two,” he whispered, looking at the pair gratefully.

“You should go home,” MJ said, helping him up and guiding him in the direction of the councillor’s office.   
Ned nodded in agreement, putting Peter’s backpack onto his shoulders. “Yeah. Screw Phys Ed.”

Peter hesitated. Compared to the beginning of the day he sort of felt Ned was right. The councillor did say that he could stay home if he didn’t feel up to the school day. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he did feel up to it, especially when this next lesson was dodgeball with Flash on the opposing team. But then again… he was restless and without his Spider-Man duties craved something to let out all his frustration with. Plus he had Ned by his side, and Ned was a good friend. MJ was there for him too. He pushed open the door to the councillor’s office all the same and twisted to watch as Ned and MJ went in opposite directions – MJ in the direction of the library, Ned to the gym. “Save me a spot on your team,” he called to Ned, “I’ll be five minutes!”

With Ned and MJ by his side, Peter felt he could do anything. Not effortlessly, certainly, but... but they helped. If anyone was able to pull him up when he fell, it was those two.

**Author's Note:**

> seriously seeing all those pictures of Tony on the walls at school must've been heartbreaking for Peter :( ok so I've sort of jiggled this around a bit and made it so after the events of FFH Peter began his return to school (even though yeah he went on the vacation) -- I'm assuming in canon he returned to school prior so uh.. whoops lol.
> 
> Mysterio is an amazing villain but those illusions must've fucked with Peter big time. oof.
> 
> am tired am going to bed. x


End file.
